


Brass Ring

by Innibis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, clueless!Harry, hermione is better than either deserve, past hermione/ginny, supportive friends, supportive yet incredulous friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innibis/pseuds/Innibis
Summary: Harry has dating issues





	Brass Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Putting the blame squarely on recent conversations with other old school shippers that made me want to possibly start writing again after 72 years off, but in the meantime I'm moving stuff over from LJ. For posterity I guess? It was a miracle I remembered that account’s password. . .
> 
> Libgirl was my fabulous beta on this fic many years ago

"The thing I don’t understand," Hermione said slowly, breaking the stunned silence "is why she was sitting in the Quidditch Ring in the first place."   
  
"That’s the only thing you don’t understand?" Ron asked incredulously as Harry sat on the couch between them, face in his hands. "Honestly, mate," Ron continued as he patted Harry’s head twice in helpless sympathy, "you have more dating disasters than Hermione has books."    
  
Harry just groaned, the sound muffled by his fingers. This time could not have possibly been his fault. How on earth could he have known that the sweet-eyed, curvy little witch from the Department of Mysteries, who had so shyly asked him out, was actually a perverted sex maniac who wanted to be taken ("Hard, Harry! Fuck me harder!") fifty feet in the air, draped through the Quidditch Ring, skirt flipped over her bare arse as Harry balanced on his old Firebolt and did his best to accommodate her. So maybe he should have had more of a grip on her hips and less on the broom, and maybe he could have caught her before she plummeted to the ground in the throes of a flailing orgasm, or cast a cushioning charm or something, but it was still clearly Not His Fault. Harry would ask Ron later, but there was no way that he was going to talk about the specifics to Hermione. Maude fell out of a Quidditch Ring and that was all there was to it.

* * *

"Well," Hermione said, staring at Harry’s bared back "it certainly is colorful."  
  
"Yes, but what does it mean?" Ron asked, tracing a finger over the tattooed runes.  
  
"Erm-"  
  
"Just say it Hermione," Harry said through gritted teeth.  
  
Hermione recited "Send your heat to fire my loins." She paused. "Harry, were you involved a ritual?"  
  
"Don’t know," Harry said shortly as he pulled his shirt back down. "I don’t remember a thing after meeting her at the Leaky."  
  
Ron pulled a twig out of Harry’s hair and Hermione rubbed lipstick off his cheek. "That’s a shame, mate," Ron said seriously. "It looks like you had a good time." 

* * *

Hermione looked at Harry suspiciously, but she could bloody well forget any clarifying remarks. He was home early from his dinner with the lovely Anastasia and that was all she needed to know. "Shouldn’t you be packing for Romania?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, "I am catching the late portkey." Hermione and Charlie had been in a long distance relationship for a few years, a situation that allowed for both Hermione and Charlie’s independent streaks and workaholic tendencies, suiting the couple very well. It drove Molly Weasley mad.  
  
Harry and Ron also drove Molly mad, partially due to their lack of ability to sustain romantic relationships. Harry generally couldn’t get to the second date and Ron never showed any interest after the third, so they tended to stay home on weekends. It was never any effort to be with Ron and honestly, Harry preferred those low key nights on the couch at Grimmauld Place when Hermione was out socializing and not telling him to get a life. Harry didn’t have to tell the Voldemort stories, or explain life with the Dursleys, or be anyone other than himself; Harry Potter, Sometimes Broody Bastard. In fact, Harry didn’t really need anyone other than Ron. Except for the sex part. Harry liked sex, therefore Harry still had to date. Just dating to get laid, Harry thought. "Pathetic," he said out loud.  
  
"What?" Ron asked around a mouthful of curry.  
  
"Yes," Hermione agreed as she left the living room.  
  
"Hey," said Harry indignantly, but she was gone.  
  
Ron poked Harry in the side. "What’s pathetic, Harry?"  
  
"You. Me. Look at us, thirty years old and without anybody but each other."  
  
"We have Hermione," Ron protested.  
  
"No. Charlie has Hermione. Before Charlie had Hermione, Hermione made an effort. Hermione went on dates."  
  
"We go on dates," Ron said. "You just got back from a date."  
  
"I just got back from St. Mungo’s," Harry corrected.  
  
"Well, we try to go on dates," Ron acknowledged, "although mine don’t go well for normal reasons, like bad dinner conversation or no chemistry. You on the other hand-"  
  
"Don’t," Harry begged.  
  
"You on the other hand," Ron said over Harry’s protests, "You get yourself and/or your dates assaulted by a coalition of doxies and garden gnomes, turned blue, kidnapped by an Amazon tribe, sent to the hospital-- several times I might add, with several different people-- ritualistically pierced, ritualistically tattooed, tangled in the chandelier of the ministry’s ballroom, and I still have no idea how Luna talked you into sitting on those giant bird eggs to keep them warm until their mother came home." Ron lifted his glass in salute. "You, Chosen One, are unique."   
  
"Thanks," Harry said sourly.   
  
Ron slung a comforting arm around Harry, "Maybe the problem is that we haven’t found the right people yet. I, for one, am in no hurry."   
  
"That’s because you’ve had a long, serious relationship before. I haven’t," Harry said.  
  
"To be fair," Ron said, "you’ve had just as long and just as serious a relationship with Hermione as I have only you never slept with her. Besides, Ginny would have forgiven you for the whole knickers on the centaur’s head incident."  
  
"Yeah, but you and your brothers wouldn’t have if Gin and I had stayed together."  
  
"Well, no, probably not. I mean it’s one thing to know a bloke’s shagging your sister, but it’s an entirely different matter to have the evidence of it galloping around your backyard when the Minister is over for tea."  
  
"It wasn’t just that, you know," Harry said closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the couch. "Ginny said that she would never be as important to me as you and Hermione are and that she wouldn’t play second best her whole life." Ron was silent. "She’s not wrong," Harry continued "how could anyone ever come close to you two? She wasn’t angry either, just resigned. Like she had given it a go but that was that."  
  
Ron sighed, put his dinner to the side, and settled back next to Harry "Yeah, dating Hermione was easy in that respect. She was never going on and on about spending less time with you. Hermione didn’t mind."  
  
"Hermione did mind," Hermione said, clicking back into the room in her pointy, high heeled boots, "Ron just didn’t listen."  
  
"I did so," Ron protested.  
  
Hermione put her hands on her hips, "What do you think it meant when I said I wanted to spend quality time together?"  
  
Ron blinked "You meant all by ourselves? How was I supposed to know? What about Harry?"   
  
"Well maybe I should have dated Harry for five years instead of you."   
  
Harry tried not to look revolted, but Hermione glared at him anyway. "You don’t want to date me! Why are you giving me the death stare?" Harry asked defensively.  
  
"What are we going to do with you Harry?" she asked.  
  
"Me? What about Ron?"  
  
"I know what to do with Ron. I taught Ron everything he knows. Ron’s fine. It’s you who’s moping around and sighing about his lack of love life."  
  
"How _did_ you teach me everything I know, Hermione?" Ron asked as if it had just occurred to him. "Who taught you?"  
  
"Ginny," Hermione said, and Ron choked. "Now back to Harry-"  
  
"Just how many Weasleys have you slept with, Hermione?" Harry demanded, fascinated.  
  
Hermione paused to consider, which nearly sent Ron into a seizure. "You have to _count_?!" He shouted.  
  
"Back to Harry," Hermione said firmly with no hint of embarrassment. Ron meeped but seemed unable to speak coherently, so Hermione continued. "What are you looking for in a partner, Harry, other than the ability to survive a first date with you of course?"  
  
"Dunno," Harry muttered, "never thought of it before. I just say yes when they ask me."  
  
"Maybe it’s time that you did think about it and started being proactive in your own happiness. You’re in for the night, yeah?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded. "Right, well I won’t be back until Sunday night. I expect to see a list of the qualities you want in a woman when I get home."  
  
"Or man," Ron said.   
  
"Man?" Harry asked Ron. "Homework?" he asked Hermione.   
  
"You should keep you options open, not start with any assumptions. Like when we begin an investigation at work," Ron said and Harry nodded slowly. It wasn’t like he hadn’t peeked at Oliver a few times in the shower, or Charlie when he was visiting Hermione, and he had gotten a blow job from Terry Boot one night when they were stuck in Estonia on the way home from a mission (it wasn’t a date so it hadn’t ended in disaster), so he supposed it was as good a possibility as any.   
  
"Yes, Harry, homework. I am sick to death of watching you go on one insane date after another. Ron will help you," Hermione added, reaching for her bag and her wand. She leaned down to kiss Ron’s cheek, smoothing a loving hand over his hair. "I’ll tell Charlie you’ll see him at Christmas." Ron nodded. Hermione moved to press her lips to Harry’s forehead. "You _should_ keep your options open you know," she said. "I think that you might be surprised by what you find." Hermione straightened and walked to the entrance hall where she waved before disapparating.   
  
"Ginny," muttered Ron darkly.  
  
"Don’t think about it," Harry advised, summoning parchment, a quill and a bottle of Fire whiskey.

* * *

"Harry," Hermione’s voice drifted into Harry’s dreams. Groaning, he pulled a pillow over his head and tried to ignore her. A plan that was thwarted when Hermione breezed briskly into his bedroom, flicked her wand at the drapes to let the pale sunlight in, and sat in the big squishy armchair next to the window.  
  
"Go harass Ron," Harry growled.  
  
"We need to talk about your list," Hermione said, "and Ron’s not here."   
  
Harry sat up, exposing his bare chest to the cold air. "What do you mean he’s not here?"  
  
"He went into work early," Hermione said, not meeting Harry’s eyes as she floated a cup of tea over to him.  
  
Harry blinked in surprise. Ron never went into work early, unless Harry or Kingsley made him. "Something’s wrong. Has to be," Harry said and reached for his glasses. "We need to find Ron."   
  
"Ron’s fine," Hermione said, exasperated. "I . . . talked to him before he left. You’ll see him soon. He just needs to clear his head a bit."   
  
Harry knew Ron did not go into work early, but he also knew Hermione, and if Ron was in trouble, there was not a force in the universe that would keep her away from him. She wouldn’t let Ron suffer alone and she would never lie to Harry. "Alright," he said reluctantly.  
  
"Good," Hermione said, relief in her voice. "About this list. . . would you like me to read it back to you? Sometimes it helps hearing things said out loud."  
  
"Okay?" Harry said, confused, hadn’t he and Ron written the thing a few days ago? He knew what was on there.  
  
"Right," Hermione cleared her throat.   
  


Harry Potter’s List for the Ideal Woman, Man, Whatever  
(Approved by Ron Weasley)

1\. Ron Weasley always comes first. So does Hermione.  
2\. Willing to try anything once  
3\. Excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts skills (because you never know)  
4\. Loves Quidditch  
5\. Brave  
6\. Fantastic and creative in bed (but not taught by Ginny)  
7\. Kind to House Elves, dragons and anything that Hagrid finds  
8\. Not a Slytherin  
9\. Funny  
10\. Smart (but not smarter than Hermione which isn’t possible anyway)  
11\. Doesn’t treat me like The Chosen One and yells at me if I start to act like The Chosen One  
12\. Loyal  
13\. Knows when I need to be distracted, when I need to brood and when I need a long, middle of the night broom ride  
14\. Trustworthy (won’t sell me out to Skeeter)  
15\. Very attractive because we’re going to get photographed a lot

  
"Um," Harry said after Hermione was finished reading, "I know it isn’t very good, but we did try." For about five minutes, and then Harry told Ron the story about Anastasia’s unfortunate allergic reaction to sea bass, and the conversation had digressed from there.   
  
"No, Harry," Hermione said. "I think it’s a very good list. Remind you of anyone you know?"   
  
Harry took the list from Hermione’s hand: Loyal, brave, smart, fun. Harry shrugged. "Sounds like Ron, except for the bed part which I don’t really know, although I am sure that Ginny didn’t teach him a thing. No surprise there. He is my best friend, so I obviously like those things in a person."   
  
Hermione looked at him steadily. "Harry," she said, "you wrote out a list of the ideal person for you, and Ron has every one of those qualities, I’ll vouch for the fantastic in bed part. Don't you think you should consider it?"   
  
"Ron?" Harry asked weakly, as all sorts of pieces began snapping into place, like his head was a giant jigsaw puzzle.   
  
"Take the sex out of it for a moment," Hermione said. "Who else do you want to spend time with? Who do you see living the rest of your life with? Who would you miss the most? If there was no sex involved, you’d answer Ron every time."    
  
"Yes," Harry said slowly, drawing out the word.   
  
"Okay, now add the sex part in. Are you telling me that you don’t want to know what it’s like?"   
  
Then Harry had a flash of silky red hair and a hard freckled chest, big rough hands and wide soft mouth, the rumbling laugh and understanding silence. Loud and brash and kind and considering, with a strong temper and an even stronger sense of loyalty. Ron was all things to Harry, in every broad brush stroke and every shadowed nuance of Harry’s life. Of course he loved Ron. Always had, and always would.    
  
Hermione smiled.    


* * *

Hermione was annoyed with him, so Harry was surprised when she dragged him into a Muggle Pub near the police station and bought him a scotch. He had called her out of her department’s annual Christmas party, but it was an emergency and Ron, Harry’s preferred choice to bail him out of trouble, was not the ideal rescuer when Muggles where involved.  
  
"Hermione, I’m sorry," Harry started.  
  
"Just stop," Hermione said, holding up her hand. "Your date stories are always entirely too distracting and I have something to say to you."  
  
Hermione always had something to say to him, but Harry thought that it would be unwise to mention it, having just been rescued from a holding cell.  
  
Hermione downed her vodka, motioned to the bartender for another and then turned on her stool to fully face Harry. "What are you doing? What are you _thinking_? I thought that we had established that you love Ron."  
  
"We have. Had. But I’m not ready," Harry said.  
  
"Not ready? Not ready for what?" Hermione demanded forcefully.  
  
"I don’t know," he said slightly at a loss, "To take the chance that he doesn’t love me like that. For things to change. It's all a bit scary, Hermione. So I went out with that witch from Gladrags and Fleur’s cousin- did you know that she set me up with a bloke?" Hermione nodded "and that Muggle woman with the big smile I met on a stakeout, and none of them were right. None of them fit. I didn’t want them too. Knowing that everything I have ever wanted, family, friendship, comfort, fucking peace of mind, all of it is with Ron. Everything will change when I tell him- ask him. Whether it’s because it’s all awkward rejection, or because I can finally stop looking for my place. . . I just don’t know," Harry trailed off.  
  
Hermione put her hands on either side of Harry’s face. "Listen to me. Ron loves you. In everyway and anyway you could possibly imagine. He doesn’t have to say it for us both to know it. And you deserve to be happy. It is time for you to take all that passion and courage of yours and use it for your own benefit. Harry," Hermione said intently, sliding her hands down his arms to grasp both of his hands tightly, "you don’t have to search anymore. You’re already home."

* * *

Every Christmas morning after the war, Ron would disappear. The first time, Harry had become frantic, woken up the entire Burrow, sent Hermione an emergency Patronus and had begun assembling a team of Aurors to find his best friend. When Ron had walked into the kitchen, smelling of pine and cold and with an armful of rather unevenly chopped wood, his face had frozen at the sight of Harry, still in his dressing gown and bare feet, hair standing on end, issuing orders to various friends, family members and disgruntled looking Aurors. "You thought I’d left you again," Ron had said flatly.  
  
Harry had sprinted the few steps to Ron and punched him hard on the shoulder before throwing his arms around his startled friend. "No, you utter git, I thought you’d been kidnapped, or something horrible."  
  
It had been the third Christmas after the war and Harry had been sitting on Hermione’s bed as they waited for Ron to come home when Hermione said it was Ron’s penance. That Ron went to the woods to chop until his hands were blistered and then returned to them as an act of contrition. "He needs to remind himself what it feels like to be alone and cold on Christmas morning. It’s for abandoning us. Abandoning you."   
  
"He didn’t-" Harry had begun hotly.  
  
"He did." Hermione had interrupted. "Certainly not on purpose, but he left and couldn’t get back."   
  
"I thought- I thought that you had forgiven him," Harry had said.  
  
"There is nothing for me to forgive, he just hasn’t forgiven himself." Harry had opened his mouth to protest but Hermione had continued firmly, "You are in no position to talk about letting go of guilt, Harry." Harry had closed his mouth. That was entirely true.   
  
"How do we stop feeling this way?" Harry had asked. "When do we forgive ourselves?"  
  
Hermione had smiled sadly and reached over to the table beside her bed, picking up a large, worn book. She had stared at it as she thumbed through the pages. "I never tell Luna that there are no such things as nargles any more. I help you and Ron with your case research, even when I think your theories are absurd. I read The Tales of Beedle the Bard to the children at your orphanage once a month."  
  
"Hermione," Harry had breathed. "What could you ever feel guilty about?"  
  
Hermione had raised tear-filled eyes to meet Harry’s, "because once upon a time, Harry," she had said "when Ron was back and we were on that terrible hunt and you thought that the answer lay in a fairytale, I didn’t believe you."    


From that day forward, Christmas mornings were always spent at Grimmauld Place and always just the three of them.

* * *

Ron burst into the living room with an armful of firewood and a dusting of melting snow on his shoulders and clinging to the tips of his bright hair.   
  
"You forgot your hat," Hermione said mildly. She was in her pajamas, curled up on her favorite chair next to the fire reading Dickens. Ron grinned, threw the wood down on the hearth with a clatter and walked over to Hermione to shake his head vigorously over her. She let out a token shriek in protest.  
  
"We waited breakfast for you," Harry called lazily. He lay across the whole couch with Crookshanks purring on his chest, dressed in flannel bottoms and last year’s Weasley jumper. It was Christmas and snowing, and he was warm and about to be fed and spending time with the two most important people in his life. Harry basked in the all too infrequent feeling of contentment.  
  
"I would bloody well hope so," Ron said. "Let me get changed and I’ll be right down," and he turned and bounded out of the room.  
  
As they listened to him thunder up the stairs, Hermione looked at Harry, "I’ll get breakfast, you get Ron."  
  
"What? Now?" Harry asked.  
  
"It’s as good a time as any," Hermione said reasonably.   
  
Harry swallowed and nodded; might as well get it over with.

* * *

Harry knocked on Ron’s closed door. "I’ll be down in a minute," Ron yelled.  
  
"Can I talk to you, mate?" Harry called.  
  
After a slight hesitation, Ron called back, "Door’s unlocked."  
  
Harry walked into the room catching his breath as he watched Ron’s back flex to pull a shirt over his head. Harry sat on the edge of Ron’s bed. "So I was reading that list we made a few months ago, the one that lists all the qualities I want in a partner," Harry said.  
  
"Yeah?" Ron asked, turning to face him.  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied. "It reminded me of someone. Reminded me of you." It was out there now. No turning back.  
  
"Stands to reason," Ron said neutrally.   
  
"It does," Harry nodded, taking a deep breath and reaching for one of Ron’s hands. "Stands to reason that the person I love the most in this world is the one who matches my list of desirable qualifications."   
  
"Love most?" Ron echoed, and laced their fingers together, a small, shy smile growing on his face.   
  
"Course," said Harry. "Who else?"   
  
"Are we talking about the same thing here, Harry?" Ron asked as Harry stood up and moved closer, never relinquishing Ron’s hand.  
  
"I certainly hope so," Harry breathed before he tilted his head to brush his lips against Ron’s, sliding his own chapped lips over the softness of Ron’s mouth until he felt Ron’s free hand rise and stroke once over his cheek. Then Harry bit on that full lower lip and tugged it down before sliding his tongue into Ron’s mouth and raising his free hand to grasp the tee-shirt stretched across Ron’s chest.   
  
Harry had no idea how long they kissed, how long they pressed their bodies together and tentatively stroked collar bones, necks, filled hands with fistfuls of hair, before he heard a soft knock behind them. Pulling reluctantly away from Ron’s mouth, and leaving a soft kiss on Ron’s nose, Harry turned to find Hermione standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around her body like she couldn’t quite contain herself.   
  
Ron chuckled and pulled Harry back against his warm body, so that Harry was cradled against his chest. They both opened their arms to their girl who flung herself at them, and Harry found himself surrounded by bushy brown hair and freckled arms.   
  
"Hey Harry," Ron breathed into his ear, "What do you say we play some Quidditch later today. I’ve been thinking about those rings." 


End file.
